Harry Potter and the Piscean Dreams
by Amaniachwen
Summary: Cripes, Harry just can't get a break. Not only is Voldie coming after him AGAIN, now he has to deal with Ron and Herm edging around their obvious feelings, a new Gryff, and a new Huffly! This will probably become R-rated later on. Please give it a chance.
1. Ambush

Disclaimer: We don't own Harry Potter, but if we did, this would be rather not here because we wouldn't write a fanfic about something we owned. Anyway, please enjoy, and we sincerely hope you all like what we've come up with!  
  
1. Ambush  
  
Harry Potter rested his head on his arm, gazing dully out the window. The evening was fairly bright, and he could clearly make out the figures of the children who were playing ball under the glow of the streetlight.  
  
Earlier that day, Dudley had kicked and stepped on his new DVD player when the DVD movie kept freezing. Lucky Harry, who had unwillingly been dusting the shelves in the same room at the time, was blamed because he had looked at the player. And it had inexplicably been broken and squashed-looking because he had. If the Dursley's hadn't locked him in his room as punishment, Harry might have snuck out to the street to join the kids' game.  
  
"Maybe next time," he sighed. Then he buried his head into his arm. "September better hurry up and get here already."  
  
It was still June. He was in for a long wait.  
  
*****  
  
Meanwhile, something that would affect Harry in a most serious way was about to occur....  
  
*****  
  
The St. Martin house was like any other house on Thatcher Street. It was comfortable, moderately sized, with a green lawn and trimmed hedges. It had a wrap-around porch with a porch swing and a porch light that was always on after dark so the Muggles who lived around the St. Martins would not suspect the truth about their neighbors. While the St. Martins, Leonard, Emma, and their daughter, Angeleigh, dressed like Muggles and acted like Muggles, they were not Muggles. They were wizards.  
  
Most wizards, however, did not live amongst Muggles the way the St. Martins did. Few wizards would be seen walking down Thatcher Street, a typical Muggle street in Salem, Massachusetts. What made the St. Martins rather unusual was that they were in hiding. Since the recent arising of Voldemort, the darkest of the dark wizards, the St. Martins, alongside other American Aurors, were working to bring down his circle of Death Eaters in their country.  
  
The American Aurors' Society placed its hopes in the St. Martins and their safety. In addition to being Aurors, they were gifted with second sight, and most of the family had the ability to see minds. They were a formidable foe, and Cyrus Reaper, head of America's Death Eaters, knew it. They could communicate telepathically, and the bulk of the Aurors' communication traveled through the St. Martins. While hope rested in Emma and Leonard, the real burden of hope was on their sixteen-year-old daughter Angeleigh. Angeleigh, proud, stubborn, willful, was their Secret Keeper. If it involved Aurors' secrets, Angeleigh knew it. The fidelius charms upon her were strong, as was her promise never to break them by telling what she knew to anyone.  
  
For most of the year Angeleigh went, safe and unnoticed, to the American Institute of Magic in nearby Boston. Few students outside of other Aurors' children knew who she was or what her importance was, and she liked it that way. So did her family, who worked tirelessly to guard Angeleigh and the secrets she kept from their enemies.  
  
But it was now the summer, and Angeleigh had been home for the holiday for two weeks now. It was a perfect New England summer, not too humid yet, with a breeze off the ocean. This particular day, June 23, was very warm, even though the sun had long since set. Angeleigh had spent this day as she did most summer days, on the town common watching tourists and passers- by, and considering getting ahead in her work for the fall term. When it came to the getting ahead bit, she figured it was the intent that counted, so her school books and quill pen remained in her satchel as she watched the people, taking it in, and even taking the opportunity to practice her mind reading tactics. She couldn't really read minds so much as she picked up on emotions. It was all definitely more interesting than Selected Topics: the Puritans and their Views, or Wizard Literature 4: Where Hawthorn Had it Right. Her advisor seemed to think that since she lived in Salem her coursework for her third to last year should center around the city and its history.  
  
Now, after dark, with no chance of getting any schoolwork done, Angeleigh gathered her things, stood, and stretched, then started back toward Thatcher Street. On occasion people in light summer cloaks would nod to her in acknowledgement. The St. Martins were not the only wizarding family in Salem. On even more rare occasions, a Muggle boy would look her up and down, or flash her a wink and a grin. She loved the attention, and sometimes wondered what her parents would say if she ever fell in love with a Muggle. Her family prided itself on its pure wizard lineage; always had, always would.  
  
Her thoughts quickly turned to more serious matters as she neared her street. Muggle boys and flirting and eloping took second place to the sense of urgency that grew stronger the closer she got to Thatcher Street. Angeleigh was always cautious after dark; her senses heightened, and her powers became focused on sensing danger and ill portents. Normally, it was a precaution and little more than a test of her abilities. But tonight something was wrong. Something didn't feel right, and she couldn't put her finger on what it was.  
  
As she turned down Thatcher Street she felt like she'd been socked in the stomach by a bludger; one had, in fact, socked her in the stomach only a month ago, during a recreational quidditch match at the end of term. She remembered the ache in her internal organs, and the way all the air in her lungs rushed out until she felt quite dizzy from lack of oxygen. That was kind of how she felt now. Cold sweat poured down her face and she became aware that her legs felt like jelly. It made it difficult to walk. The quiet street looked perfectly normal, except for one small detail out of place. The St. Martins' porch light was... off. It was never off after dark; they left it on all through the night and turned it off shortly after sunrise. Only, tonight, while all other houses on the street had on their porch lights, the St. Martins did not. Their entire house was darkened. The air along the street felt charged with a dark sort of energy that Angeleigh could not explain.  
  
What she could now explain was the feeling that was overtaking her. It was fear, in its most primal, concentrated form. Something was terribly wrong, and it made her deepest human instincts tell her to run. It made her heightened wizarding instincts tell her to run fast. But she had not been chosen as the Secret Keeper because her will was weak. She was a strong- willed girl, always had been, really. And oh, was she ever stubborn. No one and nothing could force her to do anything she did not want to do, not even her instincts. As much as they told her to run far and fast, away from this place, she could not. Her shaking legs kept walking toward 16 Thatcher Street until she finally stepped up onto the porch.  
  
Most disconcerting to her was that the door was slightly ajar. Her parents always kept the door closed, even in the stifling heat of summer. A cold breeze grazed her bare arms. She slid her wand from her belt loop and pointed it at the door. "Lumos," she whispered, and a faint pale golden light shone from the wand's tip. She thrust it into the dark house and pushed through the open door. Her wand hand shook.  
  
The light of the wand gave a ghostly cast to the ransacked living room. Pictures were knocked off shelves, the glass from the frames in shards all over the floor. Throw pillows were slashed and cushions were everywhere. Frightened more than ever before, Angeleigh took one step inside, then another. Then she was over the threshold and in the house. Another step-- and the door slammed behind her. She gasped and wheeled around, bumping into something tall and cloaked. She uttered a strangled cry and turned to run into the house, but the figure grabbed her wrist. She flung her wand at it, prepared to hex it, but the figure, quicker than Angeleigh could have anticipated, said, "Expelliarmus."  
  
She gasped as her wand fell from her hand and her arm went limp. She wrestled away from the figure, only to be grabbed by two more. "Let me go!" she shouted. "Help me!" her neighbors were bound to hear her. They'd come help her, they'd call the police and rescue her and arrest these people who were intruding......  
  
The tall figure came forward and slapped her across the face, knocking her breath out of her. A shower of sparks lit up her field of vision and she felt blood spurt from her nose. "Shut up," it growled. "Bind her hands. Tight," it ordered. The hooded people flung Angeleigh to the ground and tied her hands behind her back. When she was satisfactorily restrained, the first figure knelt beside her and held its wand to her. She flinched. "Lumos," it whispered with a laugh.  
  
All the lights in the house went on and Angeleigh blinked furiously, trying to adjust her eyes. She saw that a circle of hooded Death Eaters, all masked and sinister, surrounded her. Angeleigh steeled herself, knowing and accepting what they had come for. She would not, could not, fear them. Her fidelius charms were strong, as was her will. Besides, her family would come for her soon; they'd put a stop to this all......  
  
The figure removed its hood, and a Death Eater muffled Angeleigh's horrified yell with his dark sleeve. The figure in front of her was a woman, only a few years older than Angeleigh herself was. Jezebel Reaper, daughter-in-law of Cyrus Reaper, her family's mortal enemy, knelt before her, laughing maniacally. Jezebel's cold, yellowy green eyes danced merrily. "Good evening, Angeleigh," she sang. "We understand you have some important information for us. We're prepared to do what we have to do to get it." To the others she snapped, "Bring out the incentives."  
  
The circle parted and allowed a masked Death Eater to come forward, escorting Emma and Leonard. Both looked calm and resigned. "No matter what happens, Angie, don't tell them," Emma urged as she was shoved onto the couch. Leonard nodded emphatically. "No matter what," he added. Angeleigh nodded, trying to understand. No matter what? What was Jezebel planning to do to her family? To her? She looked to her parents for guidance, scared beyond belief. They were steely, ready for anything, but when they looked upon Angeleigh, it was with such love and faith and confidence that she somehow found the strength to accept the inevitable.  
  
Jezebel smiled and tore the sleeve of her cloak. The Dark Mark burned, black and ghastly, on her forearm. She tossed the material to the Death Eater holding Angeleigh. "She's going to scream when I do it. I don't need the neighbors getting involved." She began pacing. She reminded Angeleigh of a caged lion. "Now, Angie, dear, you know what I want to know. I'm not going to beat around the bush. If you don't tell me, I will inflict great pain on your family."  
  
Angeleigh's heart thumped. She looked to her parents. They both shook their heads furiously. She took a deep breath. "I won't tell you," she said firmly. She spit at Jezebel to emphasize her statement.  
  
Jezebel's face screwed up angrily. She turned upon Emma and Leonard and pointed her wand at them. "Crucio!" she cried.  
  
Sure enough, Angeleigh screamed out in horror. The Death Eater jammed the heavy material of Jezebel's sleeve against her mouth to muffle the noise. It was rough and smelled of foul incense. She could feel hot tears in her eyes as she watched her parents writhe in the horrific pain she knew the Cruciatus Curse produced. She wanted it to stop. Jezebel was laughing. Angeleigh was losing the feeling in her hands. Finally Jezebel broke the curse. "Now you see we mean business. Are you prepared to tell me where the Aurors are convening and what they're planning?"  
  
Angeleigh had never felt so torn apart. She had to save her parents. But saving them meant betraying hundreds of people across the country. And there was no guarantee Jezebel would spare any of them once she had her information. She looked to her parents, gaze blurred with tears. Her shoulders shook. Her mother, still trembling from the pain, managed a kind smile. She shook her head no; her father mouthed 'don't tell'. Mother, father, and daughter all sensed the weight of the impending sacrifice.  
  
Jezebel sensed it too, and it seemed to intensify her cruel satisfaction in her escapades. "Perhaps this will help you decide, darling," she said casually. A flick of her wrist and her wand pointed toward Emma. "Avada Kedavra," she said. In a flash of dazzling green light, Emma St. Martin was dead. Angeleigh was too horrified to scream. "One last chance, Angeleigh," Jezebel said, voice dark. "If my father wasn't so bent on knowing what you know I'd kill you, too. So make this easy on yourself."  
  
Angeleigh was limp in the Death Eaters' grasp. She felt numb all over now. Her father stared coldly at Jezebel. "I hope you rot in Azkaban for this," he hissed. "Angie, sweetheart, don't ever tell anyone what you know. You've been very brave tonight, honey. I love you."  
  
"Touching," Jezebel snapped. "Now tell, or he dies."  
  
Angeleigh was choking on her sobs. She managed to shake her head no and squeak out, "No, never."  
  
"Suit yourself." Green light flashed from her wand and filled the room. Angeleigh felt like lead as she watched her father slump over, dead. She felt very heavy, yet empty and very cold. She felt like she was having the worst dream of her life and could not wake up from it. She didn't struggle as Jezebel shoved the black sleeve material into her mouth and jerked a dark hood over her head and only dimly overheard her order the Death Eaters to take her to Cyrus Reaper while she stayed and disposed of the bodies. Angeleigh kept wishing that she would wake up soon and this nightmare-- that was what it had to be-- would be over.  
  
It didn't happen that way.  
  
  
  
Authors' Note:  
  
  
  
J. Rolande-  
  
J. Rolande told me to tell all of you that she hopes all of you will continue to read the story, and you will all be open-minded as to how her character Angeleigh will develop and how her experiences will shape her as a student and as a person.  
  
Oh yeah, she also said to not be cruel. ^.^  
  
Amaniachwen-  
  
Okay! It's nice to meet some Harry Potter fanficers! ^.^ I'll take a quick moment to let all of you know what J. and I are going with this fanfic.  
  
For starters, this is not a Mary Jane or Mary Sue or whatever, and neither of us is into making our character the center of attention, and although the story might focus more on what's happening with them at the beginning, it's all for good reasons and everything will still depend on Harry. Angeleigh, as well as my character that we will meet in the next chapter (if we get a minimum of three positive reviews) both have something to contribute to helping Harry defeat Voldemort.  
  
Since Angeleigh is J.'s character and not mine, I can't tell you much about her, but J. has her all figured out, and she is such an awesome character. ^.^ Phwee!  
  
As I said before, my character will make her introduction for the next chapter if there is a next chapter. She'll definitely be the comic relief in Angeleigh's tormented life, so look forward to humorous tidbits and things.  
  
I know that no one wants to read a Harry Potter fanfic that doesn't include Harry Potter and Co., so do not fret. ^.^ Harry, Ron, Hermione, Moaning Myrtle, Draco, Ginny, Fred, George, Dumbledore, Snape, Trelawny, Sirius, Hagrid, and many, many more will be part of the fanfic, as well. We're open to any pairing suggestions that any of you might want to suggest, but Ron and Hermione relationship action will most likely be a definite. ^.^  
  
Remember, we will continue if we have a minimum of three positive reviews. I will provide nice virtual presents for those who review. Everyone will get something different, so it will be fun! Let's all relive Christmas! Hooray! 


	2. Trust

Disclaimer: We don't own Harry Potter.  
  
  
  
2. Trust  
  
Spending a summer without his newly graduated twin brothers causing havoc all over the house had been oddly lonesome for Ron. Though it was a relief they weren't teasing him for his crush on, well, he didn't want to say, he had missed Fred and George's jokes and pranks and stink bombs.  
  
"How the bloody hell did they find out anyway?" Ron grumbled to himself a week before school was scheduled to start again. Then he wondered why this question hadn't occurred to him earlier. Of the many reasons he thought of, it didn't happen to come to mind that he was a teenage boy who had more on his mind than his brothers, which sometimes made him a bit stupid.  
  
Remembering the former question, he strained to recall when Fred and George had first found out. "I think it was at school, maybe. Everyone was in the common room, and, well, no, not everyone. Harry was in the hospital wing because that bludger hit him, and Hermione was probably off in the library looking for the name of that curse thing or whatever. What was I talking about? Oh. I was playing chess with someone, some first year, I think, when Fred or George made a joke about Hermione being a bookworm, and, uh, I think I said something to them in 'Mione's defense, and then Fred or George made a crack about me liking her, and then I, um, bloody hell! I blushed! No wonder they found out. ERGH!" Ron slammed his face into his pillow. He was blushing even now as he thought about it.  
  
His head hurt from having to think so far back. When had that happened? March, maybe? He stopped thinking since it was aching worse now that he was trying to remember dates.  
  
"Damn Fred and George," Ron grumbled, wrenching at his flaming red hair. "Like I miss them, the prats."  
  
"Ronald Weasley, if you don't get down here and degnome the garden right now, I swear I'll bite your legs off!" Mrs. Weasley screeched from the kitchen.  
  
Ron heaved a sigh. Now he wished that Fred and George were here. Having to degnome the garden by himself was three times the work now that his older twin brothers were out making toys and candies in the large, wide wizarding world.  
  
"Ronald Weasley!"  
  
*****  
  
" 'Oh-oh, here she comes! Watch out, boy. She'll chew you up!' " Singing and dancing around, Amamnemosyne was eagerly packing her trunk.  
  
" 'Oh-oh, here she comes! She's a maneater!' " She rotated her shoulders to the beat. " 'Here she comes! She's a maneater!' " Amamnemosyne sang, tossing her fluffy blonde hair around her face and flinging a shirt decorated with cartoon bananas to the floor. She dropped one foot to the floor, incidentally upon her shirt, and after striking a pose she twirled. Her foot on the shirt slipped. She lost her balance.  
  
"Oh-WHOA!" She fell. To keep from falling on her rear end, she twisted her body so she would fall against her bed, which the trunk was on. Slamming against the mattress, she grimaced at the sharp pain in her back as she watched her trunk wobble and slowly start to slip off.  
  
" 'Oh-oh, here she comes,' " the radio sang as the trunk lost its balance and fell with a loud KLUMP! It fell to its side and bounced with an UMP-UMP. Clothes and schoolbooks from the trunk spilled across the floor. The radio on the apartment counter abruptly stopped playing.  
  
Then there was silence.  
  
"Well," Amamnemosyne said to the quiet room, "shit."  
  
Mere moments later, the landlord Ms. Gerkynes, who was so fortunate as to have her room just below Amamnemosyne's, was rapping on the door. "Open up!" she squawked.  
  
"Oh, goody," Amamnemosyne thought to herself sarcastically. She couldn't remember a time when Ms. Gerkynes hadn't disliked her, so she was probably in for an angry visitor.  
  
Amamnemosyne opened the door and smiled when she saw it was who she had suspected.  
  
"Hi, Ms. Gerkynes! How are you doing?" she asked enthusiastically, though sincerely.  
  
Ms. Gerkynes overlooked the energetic salutation and tried to look over the tall teen's head and into the small apartment. "What was that ruckus?" she snapped as a greeting.  
  
Raising her eyebrows, Amamnemosyne asked, "What ruckus?"  
  
"Something fell and made a very loud noise, and it must have come from your room. For goodness sakes, child, let me in!" She pushed past Amamnemosyne.  
  
Ignoring the woman's rude words and actions, Amamnemosyne tried to remember what had happened. She wasn't good at many things, but she was very talented at forgetting.  
  
"What is all this doing in the middle of the floor?" Ms. Gerkynes barked, jabbing a long, red fingernail at the fallen trunk and spilled clothes.  
  
"Oh, that's right! It fell," Amamnemosyne remembered cheerfully.  
  
Ms. Gerkynes looked ready to blow. Her red-rimmed glasses were slipping off her nose, and she was angrily shoving them back into place with her middle finger. "You stupid girl, you're going to break my building with your idiotic activities!"  
  
"This entire place looks about ready to break by itself," Amamnemosyne said.  
  
"How dare you say that?!"  
  
"Say what?"  
  
"That my building looks ready to break!"  
  
"Oh, it does, doesn't it?" Amamnemosyne said with a grin.  
  
"You ungrateful brat! That's it! I want you out by tomorrow!" Ms. Gerkynes shrieked.  
  
"I was leaving, anyway," Amamnemosyne admitted, unable to conceal her happiness. "I'll be going overseas, and I don't suppose I'll be back for nearly a year."  
  
"You will never come back to this building," Ms. Gerkynes growled.  
  
"I'll tell my aunt," Amamnemosyne said simply.  
  
"Try it," Ms. Gerkynes snapped. "It's common knowledge your aunt doesn't care about you, and anyway, I know she's in jail. You don't think that sort of thing doesn't get around? Everyone knows. That's why we've let you stay! Everyone pities you. Everyone except me because I know you'll end up just like her, won't you?"  
  
"Not quite," Amamnemosyne murmured with a grin. She and her aunt would never be alike. The gift of magic separated them.  
  
"Why are you smiling? Are you on drugs? How dare you bring drugs into my building?!" Ms. Gerkyne's screamed.  
  
"Oh, wow!" Amamnemosyne laughed. "I swear I'm not on drugs, Ms. Gerkynes. I don't know about the other people here, but I have never ever brought drugs into your humble building."  
  
"Disrespectful brat!" Ms. Gerkynes slapped her across the face.  
  
After blinking a couple times, Amamnemosyne closed her eyes and tried to remember the numbers from one to ten. "I'll be gone tomorrow, Ms. Gerkynes," she finally said.  
  
Pursing her lips, Ms. Gerkynes glared at the teen and stomped out of the room, leaving the door open.  
  
"Oh-oh, is she ever a maneater," Amamnemosyne grumbled.  
  
She then heard a questioning whimper from the other side of the bed. Closing the door, she said, "She's gone. You can come out now, Ferdi."  
  
A dog scampered through the bed and growled after Ms. Gerkynes. Besides being longhaired, the dog had short legs, large paws, a long body, and big, perky ears. But the dog was transparent; it was a ghost. It tilted its head back and looked up its fox-like snout at Amamnemosyne.  
  
"It's okay, Ferdi. She was just bitching, as usual." She sighed, but her mood lifted when the radio came back on.  
  
" '-right round, baby, right round like a record, baby,' " the radio picked up.  
  
Amamnemosyne sniggered and, careful of any shirts on the floor, started dancing. She sang to the song on the radio, but she conveniently changed some of the lyrics. "You bitch me right round, baby, right round, like a celibate, baby, right round round round!"  
  
Ferdinand -also known as Ferdi- followed her and playfully nipped at her heals even though his teeth went right through her feet.  
  
"One more day, Ferdi Turdy! One, and then we're back in school!"  
  
*****  
  
Amamnemosyne spent the next morning repacking for the seventh and eighth times, so she would be sure she hadn't forgotten anything. If she had, Ms. Gerkynes would probably throw it away.  
  
Her friend Paul, who lived across the hall from her, came to help carry her trunk. He was a short man with a plump stomach that hung over his jeans; he was a good man, and he had been Amamnemosyne's first friend when she had arrived at the building a few years ago.  
  
Paul and Amamnemosyne made their way to the alley across the street from the apartment building, and Ferdinand made sure to keep out of site since ghosts were too upsetting for Paul and other Muggles to see.  
  
"I can't see why you want this trunk thing over here, Ama. " Paul said in his thick southern accent.  
  
"Well," Amamnemosyne began with a grin, "if anyone tries to mug me, they'll have a hard time getting away with my trunk, right?"  
  
They shared a last laugh together, and then Paul said awkwardly, "Well, I should get back to my wife. She isn't feeling well today."  
  
"Tell her I hope she gets well," Amamnemosyne said. "I'll pray for you two and all. Thanks for everything."  
  
"Take good care of yourself." Paul gave her a small hug and hurried back across the street.  
  
Amamnemosyne looked away from his retreating form and took her notepad out of her small sky blue backpack decorated with fluffy white clouds. Rereading the instructions she had been given, she checked her watch, which read fifteen after twelve.  
  
"Keep your eyes open, Ferdi," Amamnemosyne said, feeling butterflies swirling around inside her body. "We're supposed to be watching out for a light."  
  
After standing and waiting for several minutes, she sat down on her trunk and slid her small backpack off her shoulders. She rooted through it and found a tin of mints. After popping one into her mouth, she let it dissolve a bit before she got bored with that and chewed it.  
  
"Hooooooo hummmmmm," she said. "I'm bored. Hooooooo hummmmmm. I wanna be gored."  
  
Ferdinand looked up at her and made a questioning noise that sounded like "urar?"  
  
"I don't really want to be gored. I couldn't think of anything else that would rhyme," Amamnemosyne admitted.  
  
After watching her for a few moments, the dog rested its head on its outstretched paws again. Amamnemosyne smiled at the magical dog.  
  
"I'm glad you're a wizarding animal, Ferdi. You have more of a personality than any Muggle's creature I've met," she said.  
  
Instead of giving her a reply, Ferdinand perked his ears and then started barking, his tail flaring. The ground was rumbling, causing everything in the alley to shake, and Amamnemosyne gracelessly fell off her trunk and slammed into the wall of the building beside her. Being a ghost, Ferdinand was unaffected, and it easily rushed to Amamnemosyne's side.  
  
Just as suddenly as the rumbling had begun, it stopped.  
  
"Was that an earthquake?" Amamnemosyne asked, rubbing her arm that had hit the wall.  
  
Then a banging noise was heard; it was coming from further down the alley.  
  
CLANG! CLANG!  
  
"Holy hell, what now?" Amamnemosyne grumbled, curiously looking over the top of her trunk, which she was now hiding behind.  
  
CLANG! CLANG!  
  
Ferdinand barked.  
  
CLANG! CLANG!  
  
A dumpster was thrown aside with a loud KUH-CLANGANGANGANG, a bright glittery light shining out from underneath it. The ground swung open, and a man stuck his head out from the square hole in the pavement.  
  
"Damn Muggles always puttin' things where they don't need to be," he grumbled, putting his wand back into his robe. The man was nearly six feet tall and had a skinny frame. His brown hair fell messily over his tan face and neck.  
  
Amamnemosyne leapt out from behind the safety of her trunk and ran down the alley to the stranger. "Hi! I'm Ama! Are you the one who's supposed to pick me up?"  
  
The man pulled a folded piece of paper out of his robe and squinted at it. "Ah-mah-em-en-see-neh?" he said.  
  
Amamnemosyne laughed. "No, it's pronounced Ah-mah-nem-oh-sign," she said slowly, "but I go by Ama."  
  
"Okay then. I'm Antonio, and I'll be escortin' you to the train you're to be ridin' on," he introduced.  
  
"Great! Can you help me with my trunk first? It's too heavy for me to carry by myself," she explained.  
  
"Okay then," Antonio said. His strides were long, and in a short amount of time, he had reached the trunk, hefted it onto his shoulder, and walked back to the opening in the ground.  
  
"Wow! I didn't think you were that strong!" Ama said in awe.  
  
Antonio grinned and said; "Girls' stuff is always so damn heavy so I hafta be strong to carry it."  
  
He knelt down, slid the trunk off his shoulder, and lowered it into the hole.  
  
"I can get down on my own," Ama said, tapping her thigh, signaling for Ferdinand to follow.  
  
She sat at the edge of the hole, letting her feet dangle into it. Supporting her body with her arms, she scooted so she was facing the out of the hole then slowly lowered herself down, Ferdinand floating after her.  
  
Antonio hopped down, and taking his wand out of his robes, said, "Trificno." The hatch fell back forward, concealing them in darkness. "Lumos." Light filled the small compartment. "Artignia." The small room began descending straight down into the earth.  
  
"This is like an elevator!" Ama recognized.  
  
"A what?" Antonio asked.  
  
"Muggles have something like this in big buildings. They call them 'elevators.' "  
  
"Oh," Antonio said disinterestedly.  
  
"Have you ever been to Europe?" Ama asked.  
  
"Nope."  
  
"Would you ever want to go?"  
  
"Nope."  
  
"What do you think it's like?"  
  
"Like here, I guess."  
  
"I think it will have a really pretty blue sky with huge fluffy white clouds and lots of sunlight. 'Course, it will probably storm hard, too, but no place is perfect."  
  
"Probably isn't."  
  
"I like it here okay, but I would like more sunny days that aren't super hot. I'm tired of heat, heat, heat throughout the spring and summer and fall and then cold, cold, cold all winter."  
  
"Uh-huh."  
  
"What about you? What kind of weather do you like?"  
  
"Anything that doesn't kill me, I guess."  
  
"Haha, this is pretty pathetic, huh? Two strangers talking about weather!"  
  
Antonio smiled. "I'm not big on talkin.' I hope you don't mind."  
  
"Do you mind if I talk? I'm kind of nervous about this whole trip, and when I get to the train, I'll probably be even more nervous, but when I get to school, I'll be even more nervous even though I really, really want to go. Talking helps, I think."  
  
"Talk all you want," Antonio said.  
  
And she did. She talked for the last three hours of the trip. Ferdinand, who seemed used to the chatter, closed his eyes and rested in mid-air, but no matter how friendly and energetic Ama was, Antonio felt his nerves snapping ever few minutes. Lucky for the three descending beings, Antonio had several nerves, so he himself did not snap.  
  
When they had reached their destination far beneath the earth's surface, Ama opened the door and stepped out into the steamy lobby and onto a firm concrete floor. She looked around. An information and ticket desk was on her left and to her right were bathrooms, which she made a mental note to go to as soon as possible since she'd just endured three hours in a small compartment without a potty break. Straight ahead was a long corridor with a sign on the wall beside it that read 'To ThE tRaInS.'  
  
"I need to buy a ticket, and then I need to use the bathroom. Will you help me load my trunk when I'm done?" Ama said to Antonio, who was already wiping sweat off his forehead.  
  
"Yeah, I think I'll need to wash up some anyway. Too damn humid down here."  
  
"Don't like humid weather then?"  
  
"Not at all," Antonio panted, rushing to the men's room.  
  
Ama laughed, and after she had purchased a ticket for the next train to Europe, she went to use the women's room, which was even more humid than the lobby. As she washed her hands in the sink after she had relieved herself of the extra cargo, she splashed some water on her face to cool herself a bit.  
  
"Hey, Ama," Antonio said when she had come out of the bathroom. "When is your train supposed to leave?"  
  
Ama took her ticket out of her small backpack and skimmed over it. "At 4:45 PM. Why? What time is it now?"  
  
"4:39," Antonio said, glancing at his watch.  
  
"Oh, my God! Hurry! I gotta get on that train!" Ama squealed. She began pushing her trunk to the hall leading to the trains, but she wasn't getting very far very fast.  
  
Antonio picked up the front part of the trunk and said, "Pick up the back end. If we run, we can make it, so don't worry."  
  
Ama nodded and gripped the bottom of trunk and started running.  
  
"Not that fast! Jeez, I'm an agin' guy!" Antonio said when Ama started running faster than him, causing the trunk to bump into his bottom.  
  
"Sorry, Antonio," Ama said, slowing down just a bit.  
  
"Better."  
  
They awkwardly raced down the hall past floating candle after floating candle with Ferdinand flying beside them.  
  
Ama's arms were burning and straining with the effort of sustaining her end of the trunk, but she tried to picture what her new school would be like to keep herself motivated.  
  
Then she saw a light ahead and both Antonio and Ama put on a burst of speed and zoomed into the station.  
  
"Which train? Which train?" Antonio yelled.  
  
"Um! Um!" Ama cried, pushing herself to remember the number. "The Atlantic Express! The Atlantic Express!"  
  
"Got it!" Antonio said, turning left with Ama trailing.  
  
"Damn it! The lights are on! That means the train is about to pull out! Hey, Fritz! Hold the train, bro!" Antonio called to a man up ahead that looked just like him except that he was taller.  
  
"Why, bro?"  
  
"Just do it!"  
  
Shrugging, Fritz shouted, "Hold the train, Brittania!"  
  
The lights on the train flickered then dimmed to a soft unearthly glow.  
  
"Load this girl and her trunk here up would you? I need to refresh my lungs," Antonio wheezed, kneeling to the ground.  
  
"Can do," Fritz said, picking the trunk up and climbing onto the train.  
  
Breathing hard, Ama fell to her knees in front of Antonio, leaned forward, and hugged him. "Thank you so much! I really, really appreciate all your help!"  
  
Antonio awkwardly patted her back and said, "You better get on that train, Ama. They don't wait forever."  
  
Her legs were buzzing from running, but she climbed to her feet and gave a breathless good-bye to her new friend.  
  
Fritz, who was waiting for her on the train, guided her to an empty compartment where she mumbled a tired thank you before collapsing onto the long cushioned seat and falling asleep.  
  
*****  
  
Angeleigh woke suddenly. She hadn't meant to fall asleep. If anything, she was trying to stay awake. Sleep only brought nightmares that made her relive the horrible events of six weeks ago. The rocking of the train on its tracks must have lulled her to sleep.  
  
She was traveling alone, which didn't surprise her. She didn't have anyone else in the world at this point. Even Uncle Damian Dervish was still hundreds of miles away. She wondered if he even remembered he was an uncle, and how he felt knowing Emma, his sister, was dead, and that he was inheriting her now-crippled, both physically and emotionally, daughter.  
  
To look at her, one could hardly tell that Angeleigh was crippled in those ways. Her robes covered her mangled leg, which bottles upon bottles of Skele-gro could not repair. And only those who had known her previously would see the difference in her emotions. Her eyes, once bright, lively, and inquisitive, were duller now, and infinitely sad. But on the whole, Angeleigh looked pretty normal.  
  
Angeleigh had honey-colored hair that she usually just let fall loose to the center of her back. Her skin had taken on a sickly pale hue since her rescue from the Reapers' captivity, and the look in her eyes had changed as well; they were a very shocking shade of amber. She had no idea whose side of the family she'd inherited them from; her mom's eyes were brown, her dad's blue. But her eyes were a deep gold. They used to gleam like fire, perhaps kindled by her fierce will and fiery spirit. Now there was sheen to them, which softened her gaze and made it look like she was perpetually on the verge of tears.  
  
Her powers had changed some too. It used to be she could sense the emotions of everyone around her. After being freed from the Reapers' captivity, she could only sense the sadness of those around her.  
  
She was sitting on a bench in one coach that was something like a lobby, so occasionally someone would pass through.  
  
Why was there so much pain in everyone? Why was she forced to see it, to feel it, to practically taste the sickening salt of shedding tears of it? Anyone who came within a few feet of her would feel chilled, and anyone who came within a few feet of her would make her feel all their sadness, all their grief. It was a curse. She could never be close to anyone again. People shunned her, the strange girl that gave them the creeps, the sick looking girl with the limp.  
  
It was a bittersweet thing that she was going to a different school in a different country. Her friends would never have to see her like this, but she would never see her friends again. She'd realized this before, but it made her sad to think of their cheerful smiling faces. If she ever saw them again, those cheerful smiles would turn to horrified grimaces. Even her parents-  
  
A small tear fell off her eyelid and slid down her face, bits of it hiding in the small crevice between her nose and cheek.  
  
"Hullo!" someone chirped in front of her.  
  
Angeleigh didn't look up. She knew the person wasn't talking to her. No one did. Not any more.  
  
"Hullo!" the person said again.  
  
She didn't look up.  
  
"Hey, are you okay?" the person asked with sincere concern in her voice.  
  
Angeleigh looked up. The person was actually talking to her. "I'm fine," she murmured when she'd gotten over her surprise that lasted a few seconds.  
  
The person talking to her was a gangly girl, who looked probably a year older than Angeleigh, which would make her seventeen or so. The girl had short, fluffy hair that had at least four different hues of blonde jumbled into a bright, sunny color. Her hair was held back with a dark green headband; her hair fell over and into her eyes anyway, but the girl didn't seem to mind. She wore a gray sweatshirt that had a big hood that she kept hanging against her back, which made the ends of her hair stick out wildly. She also wore a pair of loose jeans and large sneakers with the laces obviously untied since they could be seen trailing behind her.  
  
"Good!" the girl said. " You didn't answer me, so I thought you were about to barf or something because you were leaning forward a little like it was all about to come out. Do trains make you sick?"  
  
"No," Angeleigh said.  
  
"Me neither. The rocking isn't as bad as I thought it might be. Are you sure they don't make you sick? You look really pale."  
  
Angeleigh knew how she looked, but she resented the girl saying something about her appearance. She was about to tell her to go away and leave her alone, but she was startled when the girl put a hand to her forehead.  
  
"You don't seem to have a fever or anything," the girl said. Then she noticed Angeleigh's shocked expression.  
  
"Oh! I'm sorry!" she said, withdrawing her hand. "You probably think someone you don't know shouldn't touch your forehead. I'm really, really sorry. I'm not trying to sexually harass you or anything. If you were a really cute guy, well, I might, but I'm not a whore or anything, I swear. I'm just making jokes and stuff."  
  
Angeleigh was still too surprised to laugh. This girl had touched her and Angeleigh had felt nothing. Nothing at all. No sadness. No grief. No pain. It was as if there was a wall mentally blocking her emotions. How could this be?  
  
"Um, do you want me to get lost?" the girl asked timidly.  
  
"No," Angeleigh said. She wanted to figure out what was going on.  
  
"I'm Angeleigh," she introduced, extending her hand. Maybe the touch before had been a fluke. Maybe she had only imagined nothing had happened.  
  
"I'm Amamnemosyne, but I go by Ama," the girl said, taking Angeleigh's hand and giving it a small shake.  
  
Angeleigh tightened her grip on Ama's hand when she didn't feel anything. Maybe the hold wasn't firm enough. Still, nothing happened. Angeleigh felt like she was repeatedly running into a brick wall. She let go.  
  
Ama rubbed her hand, wincing a bit. "You have a really strong handshake, Ange."  
  
"Ange?"  
  
"Do you mind me calling you that? I mean, Angeleigh is a cool name and all, but Ange isn't as much of a mouthful and all," Ama explained, sitting down on the bench beside her.  
  
"No, you can call me Ange if you want," Angeleigh permitted. "I mean, my dad used to call me Angie, so..." her voice trailed off and she turned away from Ama.  
  
"Okay!" Ama's entire face lit up at her words, and she smiled.  
  
Angeleigh looked over to her noticed her eyes. They were the same dark green as her headband, which made them stand out even more. A thin line of brown rimmed the bottom of the green, but one wouldn't notice unless they were at most a couple feet away.  
  
"Where are you going?" Ama asked, leaning forward, resting her elbows on her knees and peering up and Angeleigh.  
  
Angeleigh didn't want to talk about herself; she had learned it was usually better not to give out much info even if it was trivial.  
  
"Europe," Angeleigh said vaguely.  
  
"Haha, we all are, aren't we? This train doesn't have any stops does it?" Ama asked.  
  
"None that I know of."  
  
"Oh, well. I mean, I like riding the train and all, but I can't wait to get to Hogwarts!" Ama's smile seemed to take up her entire face.  
  
"Y-you're going to Hogwarts?" Angeleigh stammered.  
  
"Yup! I'm going to be a sixth year! It'll be great!"  
  
"I'm going to Hogwarts, too!" Angeleigh gushed, feeling silly though she also felt relieved that she would know at least one person at school.  
  
"For real? Awesome!" Ama cried. "That's such a relief! I didn't want to be by myself, you know? Wow, this must be fate!" Ama laughed.  
  
"Fate," Angeleigh murmured. Since her parents had been killed, she'd wondered if it was fate that they died that way, if it was fate that it had been all her fault.  
  
"Ange?" Ama said, waving her hand in front of her face.  
  
Angeleigh quickly swatted her hand away.  
  
Ama blinked in surprise. "You'd make an awesome seeker, Ange!" she said exuberantly.  
  
"I'm usually a beater," Angeleigh said.  
  
"Neat. I think I'm best as a chaser. Making goals is the bomb." She laughed.  
  
Smiling, Angeleigh felt oddly grateful to fate at this moment. It had sent her someone who could momentarily clear her mind of all her pain. Instead of feeling cautious around Ama, Angeleigh felt herself falling into the girl's animated conversation.  
  
The two girls continued talking and sharing stories for a while before Ama interrupted herself to say she was hungry.  
  
"We can go to the dining car and get some munchies," Ama suggested.  
  
Angeleigh hesitated. What would Ama think of her leg? Would she be disgusted? Would she suddenly say she had to leave? "Might as well get it over with," Angeleigh thought.  
  
She stood up and limped forward.  
  
Watching Angeleigh with a confused expression, Ama opened her mouth to ask why she was limping.  
  
Interrupting Ama's impending question, Angeleigh pulled her robes aside and lifted her skirt just a bit, exposing her mangled leg.  
  
Ama stared.  
  
Angeleigh could read the horror on the girl's face. She didn't want to hear any cruel remarks, so she turned to leave.  
  
"Hey! Hold on!" Ama said. "Lemme see it again!"  
  
Angeleigh showed it to her. She was surprised to see Ama looking curious.  
  
"Wow, what happened?" she asked, no tone of revolt in her voice.  
  
"It's none of your business," Angeleigh said, looking down at her.  
  
"Oh, okay," Ama said, shrugging. "I'm still hungry, so let's go."  
  
Angeleigh nearly lost her balance. "You- you aren't disgusted?" she asked.  
  
"Well, it's not the prettiest thing I've ever seen, but it's also not the grossest, so I give it a score of Icky Ouch on the Nasty Meter," Ama joked, standing up. "Let's go. I haven't eaten in hours!"  
  
"So you still want to be friends?" Angeleigh asked, almost shyly. Why did she care what this Ama girl thought? Did she want a friend so badly? Yes. Yes, she did.  
  
"Oh course! I've always wanted a friend who's lamer than I am," Ama kidded, grinning.  
  
Angeleigh was still very surprised and relieved, but she managed to smile to let Ama know she knew she was just playing. "Watch what you say. I have a cane, and there's nothing wrong with my arms. I could easily make you crippled."  
  
"Stop that. You're making me crave frog legs!" Ama said, patting her stomach.  
  
"That's gross."  
  
"Yeah, well, you're talking about beating my legs up, so we're even," Ama defended.  
  
Angeleigh actually felt herself laugh.  
  
  
  
  
  
Authors' Note:  
  
J. Rolande- Thanks for continuing with our story; I ask you to keep an open mind. I know created characters tend to get a bad rap in the fanfic world, but I'm doing my best to stay true to HP canon and far from Mary-Sue-dom. I'll hint that Angleigh can do more than just sense sad emotions; she has other powers too, but those will be revealed later.  
  
  
  
Amaniachwen- Wow! You just met Amamnemosyne. Haha! I know her name is weird, but it will be explained later. Please give us time to develop her. She has her own story, but we will explain that later as well. I hope you like Angeleigh and Ama because we think they are cool and really fun to write about.  
  
Now for presents!  
  
SycoCallie: Thank you so much for your support! We really appreciate it. ^.^ I have an authentic Harry Potter broomstick for you! Harry Potter himself signed it right there on the handle. ^.^  
  
baloonatic: We hurried for you! In your nice reviewing honor, we have for you a Dumbledore mug. It has his picture on it, but be careful because it sometimes wanders off to visit the other mugs.  
  
Kyo's Kitzy Ball: We are very happy that you thought this was funny, and we hope you enjoyed this chapter, too. For you, we have a Hogwarts robe with the animals of the four houses decorating it. The pocket next to the Slytherin snake sometimes bites, so make sure you are very cautious!  
  
If we receive three nice reviews, we will post the next chapter, and those reviewers will have presents! Again, thank you so much! ^.^ 


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